Put Yourself in His Place by Charles Reade

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grammatical, or thereabouts; but, under a feigned politeness, theinsolence of a vulgar mind shows itself pretty plainly, and themaster is reminded what he suffered on some former occasion when herebelled against the trades. This letter is sometimes anonymous,generally pseudonymous.

"'If this reminder of the past and intimation of the future isdisregarded, the refractory master gets a missive, which begins withan affectation of coarse familiarity, and then rises, with aludicrous bound, into brutal and contemptuous insolence. In thisletter, grammar is flung to the winds, along with good manners; butspelling survives, by a miracle. Next comes a short letter, full ofsanguinary threats, and written in, what we beg leave to christen,the Dash dialect, because, though used by at least three millionpeople in England, and three thousand in Hillsborough, it can onlybe printed with blanks, the reason being simply this, that everysentence is measled with oaths and indecencies. These letters arealso written phonetically, and, as the pronunciation, which directsthe spelling, is all wrong, the double result is prodigious.Nevertheless, many of these pronunciations are ancient, and wereonce universal. An antiquarian friend assures us the orthography ofthese blackguards, the scum of the nineteenth century, iswonderfully like that of a mediaeval monk or baron.

"'When the correspondence has once descended to the Dash dialect,written phonetically, it never remounts toward grammar, spelling orcivilization; and the next in the business is rattening, or elsebeating, or shooting, or blowing-up the obnoxious individual byhimself, or along with a houseful of people quite strange to thequarrel. Now, it is manifest to common sense, that all this is onepiece of mosaic, and that the criminal act it all ends in is no moreto be disconnected from the last letter, than the last letter fromits predecessor, or letter three from letter two. Here is a crimefirst gently foreshadowed, then grimly intimated, then directlythreatened, then threatened in words that smell of blood andgunpowder, and then--done. The correspondence and the act reveal--

"The various talents, but the single mind."

"'In face of this evidence, furnished by themselves, the tradesUnions, some member of which has committed this crime, will do wellto drop the worn-out farce of offering a trumpery reward and to takea direct and manly course. They ought to accept Mr.----'spreposterously liberal offer, and admit him to the two Unions, andthereby disown the criminal act in the form most consolatory to thesufferer: or else they should face the situation, and say, "This actwas done under our banner, though not by our order, and we stand byit." The Liberal will continue to watch the case.'"

"This will be a pill," said Mr. Carden, laying down the paper."Why, they call the Liberal the workman's advocate."

"Yes, papa," said Grace; "but how plainly he shows-- But Mr. Littleis a stranger, and even this terrible lesson has not-- So do prayadvise him."

"I shall be very happy; but, when you are my age, you will know itis of little use intruding advice upon people."

"Oh, Mr. Little will treat it with proper respect, coming from oneso much older than himself, and better acquainted with this wretchedtown. Will you not, Mr. Little?" said she, with so cunning asweetness that the young fellow was entrapped, and assented, beforehe knew what he was about; then colored high at finding himselfcommitted.

Mr. Carden reflected a moment. He then said, "I can't take uponmyself to tell any man to give up his livelihood. But one piece ofadvice I can conscientiously give Mr. Little."

"Yes, papa."

"And that is--TO INSURE HIS LIFE."

"Oh, papa!" cried Grace.

As for Henry he was rather amused, and his lip curled satirically.But the next moment he happened to catch sight of Jael Dence's face;her gray eyes were expanded with a look of uneasiness; and, directlyshe caught his eye she fixed it, and made him a quick movement ofthe head, directing him to assent.

There was something so clear and decided in the girl's manner thatit overpowered Henry who had no very clear idea to oppose to it, andhe actually obeyed the nod of this girl, whom he had hitherto lookedon as an amiable simpleton.

"I have no objection to that," said he, turning to Mr. Carden.Then, after another look at Jael, he said, demurely, "Is there anyinsurance office you could recommend?"

Mr. Carden smiled. "There is only one I have a right to recommend,and that is the 'Gosshawk.' I am a director. But," said he, withsudden stiffness, "I could furnish you with the names of manyothers."

Henry saw his way clear by this time. "No, sir, if I profit by youradvice, the least I can do is to choose the one you are a directorof."

Grace, who had latterly betrayed uneasiness and irritation, nowrose, red as fire. "The conversation is taking a turn I did not atall intend," said she, and swept out of the room with royal disdain.

Her father apologized carelessly for her tragical exit. "That is ayoung lady who detests business; but she does not object to itsfruits--dresses, lace, footmen, diamonds, and a carriage to driveabout in. On the contrary, she would be miserable without them."

"I should hope she never will be without them, sir."

"I'll take care of that."

Mr. Carden said this rather dryly, and then retired for a minute;and Grace who was not far off, with an ear like a hare, came backsoon after.

But in the meantime Henry left his seat and went to Jael, and,leaning over her as she worked, said, "There is more in that head ofyours than I thought."

"Oh, they all talk before me," said Jael, blushing faintly, andavoiding his eye.

"Jael Dence," said the young man, warmly, "I'm truly obliged toyou."

"What for?"

"For your good advice. I didn't see how good it was till after Ihad taken it."

"I'm afeard Miss Grace gave you better."

"She advised me against my heart. What is the use of that?"

"Ay, young men are willful."

"Come, come, don't you go back. You are my friend and counselor."

"That is something," said Jael, in a low voice; and her handstrembled at her side.

"Why, my dear girl, what's the matter?"

"Hush! hush?"

CHAPTER VIII.

Grace came in, that moment, with a superb air. She settled herselfon the sofa.

"Now, it is my turn, if you please. Pray, sir, do you think yourlife will be any safer for your insuring it? Insuring does not meanthat you are not to be killed; but that, when you ARE, for yourobstinacy, somebody else will get paid some money, to dance withover your grave."

"I beg your pardon, Grace," said Mr. Carden, entering with someprinted papers in his hand. "That is not the only use of aninsurance. He may want to marry, or to borrow a sum of money tobegin business; and then a policy of insurance, with two or threepremiums paid, smooths the difficulty. Everybody should make awill, and everybody should insure his life."

"Well then, sir, I will do both."

"Stop!" said Mr. Carden, who could now afford to be candid. "Firstof all, you ought to satisfy yourself of the flourishing conditionof the company. He handed him a prospectus. "This will show youour capital, and our disbursements last year, and the balance ofprofit declared. And this gives the balance sheet of the 'Vulture'and the 'Falcon,' which have assigned their business to us, and arenow incorporated in the 'Gosshawk.'"

"Oh, what a voracious bird!" observed Grace. "I hope these otherchickabiddies will not prove indigestible. Were they plucked first,papa? or did the 'Gosshawk' swallow them feathers and all?"

Then Grace saw she was not quite weaponless, and added, "After sucha meal, as that, Mr. Little, you will go down like a crumb."

"Grace, that is enough," said Mr. Carden, rather severely.

Grace held her tongue directly, and the water came into her eyes.Anything like serious remonstrance was a novelty to her.

When Henry had read the papers, Mr. Carden asked him, rathercarelessly, what sum he wished to be insured for.

Now Henry had so little wish about the matter, that he had not givenit a thought, and the question took him quite aback. He lookedhelplessly at Jael. To his surprise, she decided on the sum forhim, without a moment's hesitation, and conveyed the figure withthat dexterity which the simplest of her sex can command whenevertelegraphy is wanted. She did it with two unbroken movements; sheput up all the fingers of her right hand to her brow, and that meantfive: then she turned her hand rapidly, so as to hide her mouth fromthe others, who were both on her right hand, and she made the wordthousand clear, with her lips and tongue, especially the "th."

But the sum staggered Henry; and made him think he must bemisinterpreting her.

"Well, a man's life is worth five thousand pounds, or it is worthnothing. And, sir, how long do you think I shall be a workman,especially in Hillsborough, where from workman to master is no morethan hopping across a gutter?"

Mr. Carden smiled approval. "But five thousand pounds! The annualpremium will be considerable. May I ask about how much you make ayear?"

"Oh, papa!"

"Well, sir, Mr. Cheetham pays me L300 a year, at the rate of, and Ican make another L100 by carving at odd times. But, if you doubt myability, let us stay as we are, sir. It was your proposal, notmine, you know."

"Young man," said Mr. Carden, "never be peppery in business." Hesaid this so solemnly and paternally, it sounded like the eleventhcommandment.

To conclude, it was arranged Henry should take the higher class ofinsurance, which provided for accidents, voyages, everything, andshould be insured for L5000, provided the physician appointed by thecompany should pronounce him free from disease.

Henry then rose, and said, sorrowfully, to Grace, "You will not seeme here very often now; and never on Saturday afternoon or Mondaymorning. I am not going to have some blackguard tracking me, andflinging a can of gunpowder in at your window. When I do come, itwill be in the morning, and on a working day; and I shall perhaps goten miles round to get here. It must be diamond cut diamond, formany a month to come, between the Trades and me." He uttered thesewords with manly gravity, as one who did not underrate the peril hewas resolved to face; and left them with a respectful bow.

"That's a rising man," said Mr. Carden; "and may draw a hundred ofhis class to the 'Gosshawk.' It was a good stroke of business,quite out of the common."

Grace said not a word, but she shook her head and looked pained andill at ease. Jael watched her fixedly.

Henry called at the works that night, and examined the new defenses,with Mr. Cheetham. He also bought a powerful magnifying-glass; andnext morning he came to the factory, examined the cinders, andeverything else, with the magnifier, lighted his forge, and resumedhis work.

At dinner-time he went out and had his chop, and read the Liberal;it contained a letter from Jobson, in reply to the editor.

Jobson deplored the criminal act, admitted that the two Unions haddecided no individual could be a forger, a handler, and a cutler;such an example was subversive of all the Unions in the city, based,as they were, on subdivision of crafts. "But," said Mr Jobson, "wewere dealing with the matter in a spirit quite inconsistent withoutrages, and I am so anxious to convince the public of this, that Ihave asked a very experienced gentleman to examine our minute-books,and report accordingly."

This letter was supplemented by one from Mr. Grotait, secretary ofthe Saw-Grinders, which ran thus:--"Messrs. Parkin and Jobson haveappealed to me to testify to certain facts. I was very reluctant tointerfere, for obvious reasons; but was, at last, prevailed on toexamine the minute-books of those two Unions, and they certainly doprove that on the very evening before the explosion, those tradeshad fully discussed Mr. ----'s case" (the real name was put, butaltered by the editor), "and had disposed of it as follows. Theyagreed, and this is entered accordingly, to offer him his travelingexpenses (first class) to London, and one pound per week, from theirfunds, until such time as he should obtain employment. I will onlyadd, that both these secretaries spoke kindly to me of Mr. ----;and, believing them to be sincere, I ventured to advise them to marktheir disapproval of the criminal act, by offering him two poundsper week, instead of one pound; which advice they have accepted veryreadily."

Henry was utterly confounded by these letters.

Holdfast commented on them thus:

"Messrs. Jobson and Parkin virtually say that if A, for certainreasons, pushes a man violently out of Hillsborough, and B draws himgently out of Hillsborough for the same reasons, A and B can notpossibly be co-operating. Messrs. Parkin and Jobson had so littleconfidence in this argument, which is equivalent to saying there isno such thing as cunning in trade, that they employed a third partyto advance it with all the weight of his popularity and seemingimpartiality. But who is this candid person that objects to assumethe judge, and assumes the judge? He is the treasurer and secretaryof an Union that does not number three hundred persons; yet in thatsmall Union, of which he is dictator, there has been as muchrattening, and more shooting, and blowing-up wholesale and retail,with the farcical accompaniment of public repudiation, than in allthe other Unions put together. We consider the entrance of thisingenuous personage on the scene a bad omen, and shall watch allfuture proceedings with increased suspicion."

Henry had hardly done reading this, when a man came into the works,and brought him his fifteen pounds back from Mr. Jobson, and a line,offering him his expenses to London, and two pounds per week, fromthe Edge-Tool Forgers' box, till he should find employment. Henrytook his money, and sent back word that the proposal came too late;after the dastardly attempt to assassinate him, he should defy theUnions, until they accepted his terms. Jobson made no reply. AndHenry defied the Unions.

The Unions lay still, like some great fish at the bottom of a pool,and gave no sign of life or animosity. This did not lull Henry intoa false security. He never relaxed a single precaution. He avoided"Woodbine Villa;" he dodged and doubled like a hare, to hide his ownabode. But he forged, handled, and finished, in spite of theUnions.

The men were civil to him in the yard, and he had it all his ownway, apparently.

He was examined by a surgeon, and reported healthy. He paid theinsurance premium, and obtained the policy. So now he felt secure,under the aegis of the Press, and the wing of the" Gosshawk." By-and-by, that great fish I have mentioned gave a turn of its tail,and made his placid waters bubble a little.

A woman came into the yard, with a can of tea for her husband, and afull apron. As she went out, she emptied a set of tools out of herapron on to an old grindstone, and slipped out.

The news of this soon traveled into the office, and both Cheethamand Bayne came out to look at them.

They were a set of carving-tools, well made, and highly polished;and there was a scrap of paper with this distich:

"We are Hillsborough made, Both haft and blade."

Cheetham examined them, and said, "Well, they are clever fellows. Ideclare these come very near Little's: call him down and let us drawhim."

Bayne called to Henry, and that brought him down, and several more,who winded something.

"Just look at these," said Cheetham.

Little colored: he saw the finger of the Unions at once, andbristled all over with caution and hostility.

"I see them, sir. They are very fair specimens of cutlery; andthere are only about twenty tools wanting to make a complete set;but there is one defect in them as carving-tools."

"What is that?"

"They are useless. You can't carve wood with them. None but apractical carver can design these tools, and then he must invent andmake the steel molds first. Try and sell them in London or Paris,you'll soon find the difference. Mr. Bayne, I wonder you shouldcall me from my forge to examine 'prentice-work." And, with this,he walked off disdainfully, but not quite easy in his mind, for hehad noticed a greedy twinkle in Cheetham's eye.

The next day all the grinders in Mr. Cheetham's employ, except thescissors-grinders, rose, all of a sudden, like a flock ofpartridges, and went out into the road.

"What is up now?" inquired Bayne. The answer was, their secretarieshad sent for them.

They buzzed in the road, for a few minutes, and then came back towork.

At night there was a great meeting at the "Cutlers' Arms," kept byMr. Grotait.

At noon the next day, all the grinders aforesaid in Mr. Cheetham'semploy walked into the office, and left, each of them, a signedpaper to this effect:

"This is to give you notice that I will leave your service a weekafter the date thereof." (Meaning "hereof," I presume.)

Cheetham asked several of them what was up. Some replied civilly,it was a trade matter. Others suggested Mr. Cheetham knew as muchabout it as they did.

Not a single hot or uncivil word was spoken on either side. Thegame had been played too often for that, and with results toovarious.

One or two even expressed a sort of dogged regret. The grinderReynolds, a very honest fellow, admitted, to Mr. Cheetham, that hethought it a sorry trick, for a hundred men to strike against onethat had had a squeak for his life. "But no matter what I think orwhat I say, I must do what the Union bids me, sir."

"I know that, my poor fellow," said Cheetham. "I quarrel with noneof you. I fight you all. The other masters, in this town, aremice, but I'm a man."

This sentiment he repeated very often during the next six days.

The seventh came and the grinders never entered the works.

Cheetham looked grave. However, he said to Bayne, "Go and find outwhere they are. Do it cleverly now. Don't be noticed."

Bayne soon ascertained they were all in the neighboring public-houses.

"I thought so," said Cheetham. "They will come in, before night.They sha'n't beat me, the vagabonds. I'm a man, I'm not a mouse."

"They must have known that: or why draw out the grinders? How couldthey know it?"

"Sir," said Bayne, "they say old Smitem is in this one. Wherever heis, the master's business is known, or guessed, heaven knows how;and, if there is a hole in his coat, that hole is hit. Just look atthe cleverness of it, sir. Here we are, wrong with the forgers andhandlers. Yet they come into the works and take their day's wages.But they draw out the grinders, and mutilate the business. Theyhurt you as much as if they struck, and lost their wages. But no,they want their wages to help pay the grinders on strike. Your onlychance was to discharge every man in the works, the moment thegrinders gave notice."

"Why didn't you tell me so, then?"

"Because I'm not old Smitem. He can see a thing beforehand. I cansee it afterward. I'm like the weatherwise man's pupil; as good asmy master, give me time. The master could tell you, at sunrise,whether the day would be wet or dry, and the pupil he could tell youat sunset: and that is just the odds between old Smitem and me."

"Well, if he is old Smitem, I'm old Fightem."

At night, he told Bayne he had private information, that thegrinders were grumbling at being made a cat's-paw of by the forgersand the handlers. "Hold on," said he; "they will break up beforemorning."

At ten o'clock next day he came down to the works, and someperemptory orders had poured in. "They must wait," said he,peevishly.

At twelve he said, "How queer the place seems, and not a grindstonegoing. It seems as still as the grave. I'm a man; I'm not amouse."

Mr. Cheetham repeated this last fact in zoology three times, toleave no doubt of it in his own mind, I suppose.

At 1.00, he said he would shut up the works rather than be a slave.

At 1.15 he blustered.

At 1.20 he gave in: collapsed in a moment, like a punctured bladder."Bayne," said he, with a groan, "go to Jobson, and ask him to comeand talk this foolish business over."

"Excuse me, sir," said Bayne. "Don't be offended; but you are vexedand worried, and whoever the Union sends to you will be as cool asmarble. I have just heard it is Redcar carries the conditions."

"What, the foreman of my own forgers! Is he to dictate to me?"cried Cheetham, grinding his teeth with indignation.

"Well, sir, what does it matter?" said Bayne, soothingly. "He is nomore than a mouthpiece."

"Go for him," said Cheetham, sullenly.

"But, sir, I can't bear that your own workman should see you soagitated."

"Oh, I shall be all right the moment I see my man before me."

Bayne went off, and soon returned with Redcar. The man had his coaton, but had not removed his leathern apron.

Cheetham received him as the representative of the Unions. "Sitdown, Redcar, and let us put an end to this little bother. What doyou require?"

"Mr. Little's discharge, sir."

"Are you aware he is with me on a month's notice?"

"They make a point of his leaving the works at once, sir; and I wasto beg you to put other hands into his room."

"It is taking a great liberty to propose that."

"Nay. They only want to be satisfied. He has given a vast o'trouble."

"I'll give him a month's warning. If I discharge him on the spot,he can sue me."

"That has been thought on. If he sues you, you can talk to theUnions, and they will act with you. But the grinders are not tocome in till Little is out."

"Well, so be it, then."

"And his rooms occupied by Union men?"

"If I swallow the bolus, I may as well swallow the pills. Anythingmore?"

"The grinders are not to lose their time; a day and a half."

"What! am I to pay them for not working?"

"Well, sir, if we had come to you, of course the forgers andhandlers would have paid the grinders for lost time; but, as youhave come to us, you will have to pay them."

"The expenses incurred by the secretaries, and a little present toanother gentleman, who advised us. It comes to thirty poundsaltogether."

"What!" cried Cheetham, struggling with his rising choler. "Youwant me to pay men thirty pounds for organizing a strike, that willcost me so dear, and rob me of a whole trade that was worth L300 ayear? Why not charge me for the gunpowder you blew up Little with,and spoiled my forge? No, Bayne, no; this is too unjust and tootyrannical. Flesh and blood won't bear it. I'll shut up the works,and go back to my grindstone. Better live on bread and water thanlive like a slave."

Redcar took a written paper out of his pocket. "There are the termswritten down," said he, "if you sign them, the strike ends; if youdon't, it continues--till you do."

Cheetham writhed under the pressure. Orders were pouring in; tradebrisk; hands scarce. Each day would add a further loss of manypounds for wages, and doubtless raise fresh exactions. He gulpeddown something very like a sob, and both his hand and his voiceshook with strong passion as he took the pen. "I'll sign it; but ifever my turn comes, I'll remember this against you. This shows whatthey really are, Bayne. Oh, if ever you workmen get power, GOD HELPTHE WORLD!"

These words seemed to come in a great prophetic agony out of abursting heart.

But the representative of the Unions was neither moved by them norirritated.

Henry Little was in his handling-room, working away, with a brightperspective before him, when Bayne knocked at the door, and enteredwith Redcar. Bayne's face wore an expression so piteous, that Henrydivined mischief at once.

"Little, my poor fellow, it is all over. We are obliged to partwith you."

"Cheetham has thrown me over?"

"What could he do? I am to ask you to vacate these rooms, that wemay get our half-day out of the grinders."

Henry turned pale, but there was no help for it.

He got up in a very leisurely way; and, while he was putting on hiscoat, he told Bayne, doggedly, he should expect his month's salary.

As he was leaving, Redcar spoke to him in rather a sheepish way."Shake hands, old lad," said he; "thou knows one or t'other mustwin; and there's not a grain of spite against thee. It's just atrade matter."

Henry stood with his arms akimbo, and looked at Redcar. "I was inhopes," said he, grinding his teeth, "you were going to ask me totake a turn with you in the yard, man to man. But I can't refuse myhand to one of my own sort that asks it. There 'tis. After all,you deserve to win, for you are true to each other; but a mastercan't be true to a man, nor to anything on earth, but his pocket."

He then strolled out into the yard, with his hands in his pockets,and whistled "The Harmonious Blacksmith" very sick at heart.

CHAPTER IX.

The strike was over, the grinders poured into the works, and thegrindstones revolved. Henry Little leaned against an angle of thebuilding, and listened with aching heart to their remorselessthunder. He stood there disconsolate--the one workman out of work--and sipped the bitter cup, defeat. Then he walked out at the gates,and wandered languidly into the streets. He was miserable, and hadnobody to mourn to, for the main cause of his grief lay beneath thesurface of this defeat; and how could he reveal it, now that hisambitious love looked utter madness? Young as he was, he had seenthere is no sympathy in the world for any man who loves out of hissphere. Indeed, whatever cures or crushes such a passion, is hailedby the by-standers as a sharp but wholesome medicine.

He sauntered about, and examined all the shops with lack-luster eye.He looked in at everything, but observed nothing, scarcely sawanything. All his senses were turned inward. It was such apitiable and galling result of a gallant fight. Even the insuranceoffice had got the better of him. It had taken one-third of hissavings, and the very next day his trade was gone, and his life inno danger. The "Gosshawk" had plucked him, and the trade had tiedhis hands. Rack his invention how he would, he could see no way ofbecoming a master in Hillsborough, except by leaving Hillsborough,and working hard and long in some other town. He felt in his ownheart the love and constancy to do this; but his reason told himsuch constancy would be wasted; for while he was working at adistance, the impression, if any, he had made on her would wearaway, and some man born with money, would step in and carry hergayly off. This thought returned to him again and again, andexasperated him so at last, that he resolved to go to "WoodbineVilla," and tell her his heart before he left the place. Then heshould be rejected, no doubt, but perhaps pitied, and not so easilyforgotten as if he had melted silently away.

He walked up the hill, first rapidly, then slowly. He called at"Woodbine Villa."

The answer was "Not at home."

"Everything is against me," said he.

He wandered wearily down again, and just at the entrance of the townhe met a gentleman with a lady on each arm, and one of those ladieswas Miss Carden. The fortunate cavalier was Mr. Coventry, whomHenry would have seen long before this, but he had been in Paris forthe last four months. He had come back fuller than ever ofagreeable gossip, and Grace was chatting away to him, and beamingwith pleasure, as innocent girls do, when out on a walk with acompanion they like. She was so absorbed she did not even see HenryLittle. He went off the pavement to make room for their tyrannicalcrinolines, and passed unnoticed.

He had flushed with joy at first sight of her, but now a deadlyqualm seized him. The gentleman was handsome and commanding; MissCarden seemed very happy, hanging on his arm; none the less brightand happy that he, her humble worshiper, was downcast and wretched.

It did not positively prove much; yet it indicated how little hemust be to her: and somehow it made him realize more clearly thegreat disadvantage at which he lay, compared with an admirerbelonging to her own class. Hitherto his senses had always beenagainst his reason: but now for once they co-operated with hisjudgment, and made him feel that, were he to toil for years inLondon, or Birmingham, and amass a fortune, he should only be wherethat gentleman was already; and while the workman, far away, wasslaving, that gentleman and others would be courting her. She mightrefuse one or two. But she would not refuse them all.

Then, in his despair, he murmured, "Would to God I had never seenher!"

He made a fierce resolve he would go home, and tell his mother shecould pack up.

He quickened his steps, for fear his poor sorrowful heart shouldfalter.

But, when he had settled on this course, lo! a fountain of universalhatred seemed to bubble in his heart. He burned to inflict somemortal injury upon Jobson, Parkin, Grotait, Cheetham, and all whohad taken a part, either active or passive, in goading him todespair. Now Mr. Cheetham's works lay right in his way; and itstruck him he could make Cheetham smart a little. Cheetham's godwas money. Cheetham had thrown him over for money. He would go toCheetham, and drive a dagger into his pocket.

He walked into the office. Mr. Cheetham was not there: but he foundBayne and Dr. Amboyne.

"Mr. Bayne," said he, abruptly, "I am come for my month's wages."

The tone was so aggressive, Bayne looked alarmed. "Why, Little,poor Mr. Cheetham is gone home with a bad headache, and a soreheart."

"All the better. I don't want to tell him to his face he is abragging cur; all I want out of him now is my money; and you can payme that."

The pacific Bayne cast a piteous glance at Dr. Amboyne. "I havetold you the whole business, sir. Oughtn't Mr. Little to wait tillto-morrow, and talk it over with Mr. Cheetham? I'm only a servant:and a man of peace."

Henry replied with less than his usual candor; "Is it not reasonenough for leaving a place, that my life has been attempted in it,and now my livelihood is taken?"

"Those are strong reasons. But, on the other hand, your life is nolonger in danger; and your livelihood is not gone; for, to speakplainly, I came over here the moment I heard you were discharged, toask if you would enter my service on the same terms as Mr. Cheethamgave you, only guineas instead of pounds."

"What, turn doctor?"

"Oh dear, no; the doctors' Union would forbid that. No, Mr. Little,I am going to ask you to pay me a compliment; to try my serviceblindfold for one week. You can leave it if you don't like it; butgive me one week's trial."

"How can I refuse you that?" said Henry, hanging his head. "Youhave been a good friend to me. But, sir, mark my words, this placewill be my destruction. Well, when am I to begin work?"

"To-morrow, at ten."

"So be it," said Henry, wearily, then left the works and went home;but, as he went, he said to himself. "It is not my doing." And hisdouble-faced heart glowed and exulted secretly.

He told his mother how the Trades had beaten him, and he was out ofwork.

Mrs. Little consoled him hypocritically. She was delighted. Thenhe told her his departure had been delayed by Dr. Amboyne: that madeher look a little anxious.

"One question, dear: now the Union has beaten you, they will not beso spiteful, will they?"

"Oh, no. That is all over. The conquerors can afford to be good-natured. Confound them!"

"Then that is all I care about. Then do not leave Hillsborough.Why should you? Wait here patiently. You do not know what may turnup."

"What, mother, do YOU want to stay here now?" said Henry, openinghis eyes with astonishment.

"Wherever my son is happy and safe from harm, there I wish to stay--of course."

Next morning Henry called on Dr. Amboyne, and found him in hisstudy, teaching what looked a boy of sixteen, but was twenty-two, toread monosyllables. On Little's entrance the pupil retired fronthis uphill work, and glowered with vacillating eyes. The lad had afair feminine face, with three ill things in it: a want, a wildness,and a weakness. To be sure Henry saw it at a disadvantage: forvivid intelligence would come now and then across this mild, wild,vacant face, like the breeze that sweeps a farm-yard pond.

"Good-morning, Little. This is your fellow-workman."

"He does not look up to much," said Henry, with all a workman'sbluntness.

"What, you have found him out! Never mind; he can beat the town atone or two things, and it is for these we will use him. Some callhim an idiot. The expression is neat and vigorous, but not precise;so I have christened him the Anomaly. Anomaly, this is Mr. Little;go and shake hands with him, and admire him."

The Anomaly went directly, and gazed into Little's face for sometime.

He then made his report. "He is beautiful and black."

"I've seen him blacker. Now leave off admiring him, and look atthese pictures while I prose. Two thousand philosophers are writingus dead with 'Labor and Capital.' But I vary the bore. 'Life,Labor, and Capital,' is my chant: and, whereas Life has hithertobeen banished from the discussion, I put Life in its true place, atthe head of the trio. (And Life I divide into long Life, and happyLife.) The subject is too vast to be dealt with all at once; butI'll give you a peep of it. The rustic laborer in the South sellshis labor for too little money to support life comfortably. That isa foul wrong. The rustic laborer in the North has small wages,compared with a pitman, or a cutler; but he has enough for health,and he lives longer and more happily than either the pitman or thecutler; so that account is square, in my view of things. But nowdive into the Hillsborough trades, and you will find this justbalance of Life, Labor, and Capital regarded in some, but defied inothers: a forger is paid as much or more than a dry-grinder, thoughforging is a hard but tolerably healthy trade, and dry-grindingmeans an early death after fifteen years of disease and misery. Thefile-cutters are even more killed and less paid. What is to be donethen? Raise the wages of the more homicidal trades! But this couldonly be done by all the Unions acting in concert. Now the rivalphilosophers, who direct the Unions, are all against Democritus--that's myself; they set no value on life. And indeed the mostintelligent one, Grotait, smiles blandly on Death, and would grindhis scythe for him--AT THE STATEMENT PRICE--because that scythethins the labor market, and so helps keep up prices."

"Then what can we do? I'm a proof one can't fight the Unions."

"Do? Why, lay hold of the stick at the other end. Let Pseudo-Philosophy set the means above the end, and fix its shortsightedeyes on Labor and Capital, omitting Life. (What does it profit afile-cutter if he gains his master's whole capital and loses his ownlife?) But you and I, Mr. Little, are true philosophers and thework we are about to enter on is--saving cutlers' lives."

"I'd rather help take them."

"Of course; and that is why I made the pounds guineas."

"All right, sir," said Henry, coloring. "I don't expect to get sixguineas a week for whistling my own tune. How are we to do thejob?"

"By putting our heads together. You have, on the side of yourtemple, a protuberance, which I have noticed in the crania ofinventors. So I want you to go round the works, and observe foryourself how Life is thrown gayly away, in a moment, by needlessaccident, and painfully gnawed away by steel-dust, stone grit,sulphuret of lead, etc.; and then cudgel your brain for remedies."

"Sir," said Henry, "I am afraid I shall not earn my money. My heartis not in the job."

"Revenge is what you would like to be at, not Philanthropy--eh?"

"Ay, doctor." And his black eye flashed fire.

"Well, well, that is natural. Humor my crotchet just now, andperhaps I may humor yours a month or two hence. I think I could laymy hand on the fellow who blew you up."

"But it is impossible, sir. How can you know? These acts are keptas secret as the grave."

"And how often has the grave revealed its secrets to observant men?Dr. Donne sauntered about among graves, and saw a sexton turn up askull. He examined it, found a nail in it, identified the skull,and had the murderess hung. She was safe from the sexton and therest of the parish, but not from a stray observer. Well, the dayyou were blown up, I observed something, and arrived at aconclusion, by my art."

"What, physic?"

"Oh, dear, no; my other art, my art of arts, that I don't get paidfor; the art of putting myself in other people's places. I'll tellyou. While you lay on the ground, in Mr. Cheetham's yard, I scannedthe workmen's faces. They were full of pity and regret, and weremuch alike in expression--all but one. That one looked a manawakened from a dream. His face was wild, stupid, confused,astonished. 'Hallo!' said I, 'why are your looks so unlike thelooks of your fellows?' Instantly I put myself in his place. Iceased to be the Democritus, or laughing philosopher ofHillsborough, and became a low uneducated brute of a workman. ThenI asked this brute, viz, myself, why I was staring and glaring inthat way, stupidly astonished, at the injured man? 'Were youconcerned in the criminal act, ye blackguard?' said I to myself.The next step was to put myself in the place of the criminal. I didso; and I realized that I, the criminal, had done the act to pleasethe Unions, and expecting the sympathy of all Union workmen to bewith me. Also that I, being an ignorant brute, had never picturedto myself what suffering I should inflict. But what was the result?I now saw the sufferer, and did not like my own act; and I found allthe sympathy of my fellows went with him, and that I was loathed andexecrated, and should be lynched on the spot were I to own my act.I now whipped back to Dr. Amboyne with the theory thus obtained, andcompared it with that face; the two fitted each other, and I saw thecriminal before me."

"Good heavens! This is very deep."

"No slop-basin was ever deeper. So leave it for the present, and goto work. Here are cards admitting you, as my commissioner, to allthe principal works. Begin with-- Stop a moment, while I putmyself in your place. Let me see, 'Cheetham's grinders think theyhave turned me out of Hillsborough. That mortifies a young man ofmerit like me. Confound 'em! I should like to show them they havenot the power to drive me out. Combine how they will, I risesuperior. I forge as they could not forge: that was my real crime.Well, I'll be their superior still. I'm their inspector, and theirbenefactor, at higher wages than they, poor devils, will ever earnat inspecting and benefiting, or any thing else.' Ah! your colorrises. I've hit the right nail, isn't it an excellent and mosttransmigratory art? Then begin with Cheetham. By-the-bye, theAnomaly has spotted a defective grindstone there. Scrutinize allhis departments severely; for no man values his people's lives lessthan my good friend John Cheetham. Away with you both; and Godspeed you.

Henry walked down the street with the Anomaly, and tried to gaugehis intellects.

"What's your real name, my man?"

"Silly Billy."

"Oh, then I'm afraid you can't do much to help me."

"Oh yes, I can, because--"

"Because what?"

"Because I like you."

"Well, that's lucky, any way."

"Billy can catch trout when nobody else can," said the youngster,turning his eyes proudly up to Henry's.

"Oh, indeed! But you see that is not exactly what the doctor wantsus for."

"Nay; he's wrapped up in trout. If it wasn't for Billy and thetrout, he'd die right off."

Henry turned a look of silent pity on the boy, and left him in hispleasing illusion. He wondered that Dr. Amboyne should have tackedthis biped on to him.

They entered Cheetham's works, and Henry marched grimly into theoffice, and showed Mr. Bayne his credentials.

"Why, Little, you had no need of that."

"Oh, it is as well to have no misunderstanding with your employer'smasters. I visit these works for my present employer, Dr. Amboyne,with the consent of Mr. Cheetham, here written."

A young man's ill-humor could not stand against this. "Come along,old fellow," said Henry. "I'm a bear, with a sore heart; but whocould be such a brute as quarrel with you? Let us begin with thechaps who drove me out--the grinders. I'm hired to philanthropize'em--d--n 'em."

They went among the dry-grinders first; and Henry made the followingobservations. The workman's hair and clothes were powdered withgrit and dust from the grindstones. The very air was impregnatedwith it, and soon irritated his own lungs perceptibly. Here wasearly death, by bronchitis and lung diseases, reduced to acertainty. But he also learned from the men that the quantity ofmetal ground off was prodigious, and entered their bodies theyscarce knew how. A razor-grinder showed him his shirt: it was adeep buff-color. "There, sir," said he, "that was clean onyesterday. All the washerwomen in Hillsbro' can't make a shirt ofmine any other color but that." The effect on life, health, andhappiness was visible; a single glance revealed rounded shouldersand narrow chests, caused partly by the grinder's position on hishorsing, a position very injurious to the organs of breathing, andpartly by the two devil's dusts that filled the air; cadaverousfaces, the muscles of which betrayed habitual suffering, coughsshort and dry, or with a frothy expectoration peculiar to the trade.In answer to questions, many complained of a fearful tightnessacross the chest, of inability to eat or to digest. One said ittook him five minutes to get up the factory stairs, and he had tolean against the wall several times.

A razor-grinder of twenty-two, with death in his face, told Henry hehad come into that room when he was eleven. "It soon takes hold ofboys," said he. "I've got what I shall never get shut on."

Another, who looked ill, but not dying, received Henry's sympathywith a terrible apathy. "I'm twenty-eight," said he; "and a fork-grinder is an old cock at thirty. I must look to drop off my perchin a year or two, like the rest."

Only one, of all these victims, seemed to trouble his head aboutwhether death and disease could be averted. This one complainedthat some employers provided fans to drive the dust from thegrinder, but Cheetham would not go to the expense.

The rest that Henry spoke to accepted their fate doggedly. Theywere ready to complain, but not to move a finger in self-defense.Their fathers had been ground out young, and why not they?

Indifferent to life, health, and happiness, they could neverthelessbe inflamed about sixpence a week. In other words, the money-priceof their labor was every thing to them, the blood-price nothing.

Henry found this out, and it gave him a glimpse into the mind ofAmboyne.

He felt quite confused, and began to waver between hate, contempt,and pity. Was it really these poor doomed wretches who had robbedhim of his livelihood? Could men so miscalculate the size ofthings, as to strike because an inoffensive individual was makingcomplete caring-tools all by himself, and yet not strike, nor evenstipulate for fans, to carry disease and death away from their ownvitals? Why it seemed wasting hate, to bestow it on these blindidiots.

He went on to the wet-grinders, and he found their trade muchhealthier than dry-grinding: yet there were drawbacks. Theysuffered from the grit whenever a new stone was hung and raced.They were also subject to a canker of the hands, and to colds,coughs, and inflammations, from perspiration checked by colddraughts and drenched floors. These floors were often of mud, andso the wet stagnated and chilled their feet, while their bodies werevery hot. Excellent recipe for filling graves.

Here Bayne retired to his books, and Henry proceeded to the saw-grinders, and entered their rooms with no little interest, for theywere an envied trade. They had been for many years governed byGrotait, than whom no man in England saw clearer; though such men asAmboyne saw further. Grotait, by a system of Machiavellian policy,ingeniously devised and carried out, nobly, basely, craftily,forcibly, benevolently, ruthlessly, whichever way best suited theparticular occasion, had built a model Union; and still, withunremitting zeal and vigilance, contrived to keep numbers down andprices up--which is the great Union problem.

The work was hard, but it was done in a position favorable to thelungs, and the men were healthy, brawny fellows; one or two were ofremarkable stature.

Up to this moment Silly Billy had fully justified that title. Hehad stuck to Henry's side like a dog, but with no more interest inthe inquiry than a calf, indeed, his wandering eye and vacant facehad indicated that his scanty wits were wool-gathering miles fromthe place that contained his body.

But, as soon as he entered the saw-grinders' room, his featureslighted up, and his eye kindled. He now took up a commandingposition in the center, and appeared to be listening keenly. And hehad not listened many seconds before he cried out, "There's the badmusic! there! there!" And he pointed to a grindstone that wasturning and doing its work exactly like the others. "Oh, the badmusic!" cried Billy. "It is out of tune. It says, 'Murder! murder!Out of tune!'"

Henry thought it his duty to inspect the grindstone so vigorouslydenounced, and, naturally enough, went in front of the grinder. ButBilly pulled him violently to the side. "You musn't stand there,"said he. "That is the way they fly when they break, and kill thepoor father, and then the mother lets down her hair, and the boygoes crazed."

By this time the men were attracted by the Anomaly's gestures andexclamations, and several left their work, and came round him."What is amiss, Billy? a flawed stone, eh? which is it?"

"Here! here!" said the boy. "This is the wheel of death. Kill it,break it, smash it, before it kills another father."

Henry spoke to the grinder, and asked him if there was anythingamiss with the stone.

The man seemed singularly uneasy at being spoken to: however he madeanswer sullenly that he had seen better ones, and worse ones, andall.

Henry was, however, aware, that the breaking of a large grindstone,while revolving by steam power, was a serious, and often a fatalthing; he therefore made a private mark upon the wall opposite thegrindstone, and took his excited companion to Bayne. "This poor ladsays he has found a defective grindstone. It is impossible for meto test it while it is running. Will you let us into the works whenthe saw-grinders have left?"

Bayne hem'd and haw'd a little, but consented. He would remainbehind half an-hour to oblige Little.

Henry gave the Anomaly his dinner, and then inspected the file-cutters in two great works. Here he found suicide reduced to asystem. Whereof anon.

Returning, to keep his appointment with Bayne he met a well-dressedman, who stopped Billy, and accosted him kindly.

Henry strolled on.

He heard their voices behind him all the way, and the man stopped atCheetham's gate, which rather surprised him. "Has Billy told youwhat we are at?" said he.

"Yes. But the very look of him was enough. I know Billy and hisways, better than you do."

"Very likely. What, are you coming in with us?"

"If you have no objection."

The door was opened by Bayne in person. He started at the sight ofthe companion his friend had picked up, and asked him, with markedcivility, if there was anything amiss. "Not that I know of," wasthe reply. "I merely thought that my experience might be of somelittle service to you in an inquiry of this kind."

"Not a doubt of it, sir," said Bayne, and led the way with hislantern, for it was past sunset. On the road, the visitor asked ifanybody had marked the accused stone. Henry said he should know itagain. "That is right," said the other.

On entering the room, this personage took Billy by the arm, and heldhim. "Let us have no false alarms," he said, and blindfolded theboy with his handkerchief in a moment.

And now an examination commenced, which the time and the placerendered curious and striking.

It was a long, lofty room; the back part mainly occupied by thedrums that were turned by the driving-power. The power was on thefloor above, and acted by means of huge bands that came down throughholes in the ceiling and turned the drums. From each of these drumscame two leather bands, each of which turned a pulley-wheel, andeach pulley-wheel a grindstone, to whose axle it was attached; butnow the grindstones rested in the troughs, and the great wheel-bandshung limp, and the other bands lay along loose and serpentine. Inthe dim light of a single lamp, it all looked like a giganticpolypus with its limbs extended lazily, and its fingers holdingsemi-circular claws: for of the grindstones less than half isvisible.

Billy was a timid creature, and this blindfolding business ratherscared him: he had almost to be dragged within reach of these gauntantennae. But each time they got him to touch a grindstone, hisbody changed its character from shrinking and doubtful, to erect andenergetic, and he applied his test. This boy carried with him,night and day, a little wooden hammer, like an auctioneer's, andwith this he now tapped each stone several times, searching for theone he had denounced: and, at each experiment, he begged the othersto keep away from him and leave him alone with the subject of hisexperiment; which they did, and held up the lamp and threw the lighton him.

Six heavy grindstones he tapped, and approved, three he even praisedand called "good music."

"The seventh he struck twice, first gently, then hard and drew backfrom it, screaming "Oh, the bad music! Oh, the wheel of death!" andtried to tear the handkerchief from his eyes.

"Be quiet, Billy," said the visitor, calmly; and, putting his armround the boy's neck, drew him to his side, and detached thehandkerchief, all in a certain paternal way that seemed to betoken akindly disposition. But, whilst he was doing this, he said toHenry, "Now--you marked a stone in daylight; which was it?"

"No, no, I didn't mark the stone, but I wrote on the wall justopposite. Lend us the light, Bayne. By George! here is my markright opposite this stone."

"Then Billy's right. Well done, Billy." He put his hand in hispocket and gave him a new shilling. He then inquired of Bayne, withthe air of a pupil seeking advice from a master, whether thisdiscovery ought not to be acted upon.

"What would you suggest, sir?" asked Bayne, with equal deference.

"Oh, if I was sure I should not be considered presumptuous inoffering my advice, I would say, Turn the stone into the yard, andbang a new one. You have got three excellent ones outside; fromBuckhurst quarry, by the look of them."

"It shall be done, sir."

This effective co-operation, on the part of a stranger, wasnaturally gratifying to Henry, and he said to him: "I should be gladto ask you a question. You seem to know a good deal about thistrade--"

A low chuckle burst out of Bayne, but he instantly suppressed it,for fear of giving offense--"

"Are serious accidents really common with these grindstones?"

"No, no," said Bayne, "not common. Heaven forbid."

"They are not common--in the newspapers," replied the other. "But"(to Bayne), "will you permit me to light these two gaslights for amoment?"

"Well, sir, it is contrary to our rules,--but--"

"All the more obliging of you," said the visitor, coolly, andlighted them, with his own match, in a twinkling. He then drew outof his waistcoat pocket a double eyeglass, gold-mounted, andexamining the ceiling with it, soon directed Henry's attention totwo deep dents and a brown splash. "Every one of those marks," saidhe, "is a history, and was written by a flying grindstone. Whereyou see the dents the stone struck the ceiling;" he added verygravely, "and, when it came down again, ask yourself, did it ALWAYSfall right? These histories are written only on the ceiling and thewalls. The floor could tell its tales too; but a crushed workman issoon swept off it, and the wheels go on again."

"That is too true," said Henry. "And it does a chap's heart good tohear a gentleman like you--"

"I'm not a gentleman. I'm an old Saw."

"Excuse me, sir, you look like a gentleman, and talk like one."

"And I try to conduct myself like one: but I AM an old Saw."

"What! and carry a gold eyeglass?"

"The Trade gave it me. I'm an old Saw."

"Well, then, all the better, for you can tell me, and please do:have you ever actually known fatal accidents from this cause?"

"I have known the light grinders very much shaken by a breakingstone, and away from work a month after it. And, working among saw-grinders, who use heavy stones, and stand over them in working, I'veseen-- Billy, go and look at thy shilling, in the yard, and seewhich is brightest, it or the moon. Is he gone? I've seen threemen die within a few yards of me. One, the stone flew in twopieces; a fragment, weighing about four hundredweight I should say,struck him on the breast, and killed him on place; he never spoke.I've forgotten his very name. Another; the stone went clean out ofwindow, but it kicked the grinder backward among the machinery, andhis head was crushed like an eggshell. But the worst of all waspoor Billy's father. He had been warned against his stone; but hesaid he would run it out. Well, his little boy, that is Billy, hadjust brought him in his tea, and was standing beside him, when thestone went like a pistol-shot, and snapped the horsing chains like athread; a piece struck the wall, and did no harm, only made a hole;but the bigger half went clean up to the ceiling, and then fellplump down again; the grinder he was knocked stupid like, and hadfallen forward on his broken horsing; the grindstone fell right onhim, and, ah--I saw the son covered with the father's blood."

He shuddered visibly, at the recollection. "Ay," said he, "the mana corpse, and the lad an idiot. One faulty stone did that, withinfour yards of me, in a moment of time."

"Good heavens!"

"I was grinding at the next stone but one. He was taken, and I wasleft. It might just as well have been the other way. No saw-grinder can make sure, when he gets on his horsing, that he willcome off it alive."

The visitor left Henry to think of this while he drew Bayne aside,and spoke on another matter.

Afterward, all three left the works together; and Henry was sopleased with his new ally, that he told him, at the gate, he shouldbe glad if he might be allowed to make his acquaintance.

"By all means," said the other. "I am quite at your service. Youwill find me at the 'Cutlers' Arms.'"

"Who shall I ask for?"

"George Grotait."

"Grotait. The devil!"

"No, no. Not quite so bad as that."

"What," said Henry, roughly, "do you mean to say you are oldSmitem?"

"That is a name FOOLS give me."

Henry had no reply ready, and so the sturdy old secretary got thebetter of him again, and went his way unruffled.

Henry scolded Bayne for not telling him. Bayne excused himself onthe ground that he thought everybody knew Grotait. He added, "Heknew you, and told me if he could serve you, without being unjust tothe Trades, I was to tell him."

Henry replied to this only by a snort of defiance, and bade himgood-night.

The next day and the next were spent in other works, and then Henry,having no more facts to learn, fell into deep dejection again. Hesaw he must either cheat Dr. Amboyne, by shamming work, or else mustleave Hillsborough.

He had the honesty to go to the doctor and say that he had masteredthe whole matter, and didn't see his way to take any more wages froma friend.

"You mean you have mastered the broad facts."

"I have, sir, and they are beyond belief; especially the file-cutters. They are the most numerous of all the Trades, and die likesheep. If your notion about Life, Labor, and Capital is right, theTrades are upside down; for the deadliest are the worst paid."

"And are you prepared with the remedies?"

"Not I."

"Yet you fancy you are at the end of your work. Why, you are onlybeginning. Now comes the real brain work; invention. Now arecraniology and you upon your trial. But you are quite right aboutweekly salary. Invention must not be so degraded, but paid by thepiece. Life, Labor, and Capital are upside down in this place, arethey? Then you shall be the man to set them on their legs."

Henry shook his head. "Never, sir, unless I could give the mastersbowels, and the men brains."

"Well, and why not? To invention all things are possible. Youcarry a note-book?"

"Yes, sir."

"Got it in your pocket?"

"No; on my shoulders."

"Haw! haw! haw! Then write this down in it--'THERE'S A KEY TO EVERYLOCK'"

"It's down, sir."

"Now you must go out trout-fishing with Billy. He will take you onthe hills, where the air is pure, and favorable to invention. Youwill divert your mind from all external subjects, especially Billy,who is a fool, and his trout-killing inhumane, and I a mercilessglutton for eating them; and you will think, and think, and think,and forge the required key to this lock with three wards--Life,Labor, Capital. And, when forged, the Philanthropic Society shallpay you a good price for it. Meantime, don't dream of leavingHillsborough, or I shall give you a stirrup-cup that will waft youmuch further than London; for it shall be 'of prussic acid allcomposed,' or 'juice of cursed Hebenon in a vial.' Come, away withyou."

"Good-by, doctor. God bless you. You have found 'the key to myheart' somehow. I come to you a miserable broken-hearted dog, andyou put life and hope into me directly. I declare talking with youit's like drinking sunshine. I'll try all I know to please you."

He went down the street with his old elastic tread, and muttered tohimself, "There's no lock without a key."

Next day he went out on the hills with Billy, and saw him tickletrout, and catch them under stones, and do many strange things, andall the time he thought of Grace Carden, and bemoaned his sad fate.He could not command his mind, and direct it to philanthropy. Hisheart would not let him, and his personal wrongs were too recent.After a short struggle, these got so thoroughly the better, that hefound himself stealing the doctor's words for his own purposes. "Nolock without a key." Then there must be some way of outwittingthese cursed Trades, and so making money enough to set up as amaster, and then court her, and woo her, and marry her. Heavenseemed to open on him at this prospect, and he fell into a deepreverie. By-and-by, as he pondered, it seemed to him as if theshadow of a coming idea was projected in advance of the idea itself.He knew somehow there was a way to baffle his enemies, and resumehis business, and yet he could not see the way; but still he wasabsolutely conscious it existed.

This conviction took such hold of him, that he became restless, andasked Billy to leave off and come away. The youth consented, andthey returned to the town with a basket of trout. Henry sent Billyon to the doctor with half of them, and took the other half to hisfriend Bayne.

On what a trifle things turn. Bayne was very much pleased with hislittle attention, and asked him to take them to his lodging, and begthe landlady to cook them for dinner. "Tell her you dine with me,old fellow."

"Oh, hang it, I wasn't fishing for a dinner."

"As if I didn't know that. But you must. Then I shall enjoy yourcompany in peace. I shall be there in an hour."

And so he was: but in that one hour events had occurred that I shallleave Mr. Bayne to relate.

During dinner neither of the friends wasted much time in talk; butafter dinner, Bayne produced a bottle of port, notwithstandingHenry's remonstrances at being treated like a stranger, and it soonbecame apparent that the host himself was not in the habit ofdrinking that generous mixture every day. At the second glass he sofar forgot himself as to utter the phrase "Eternal friendship," and,soon after, he began to writhe in his chair, and, at last, could nolonger refrain himself, but told Henry that Miss Carden had beencanvassing customers. She had just sent in six orders for sets ofcarving-tools, all for friends of her own.

Henry colored to the temples at this unexpected proof that she heloved thought of him too.

"Now, Little, I'm not doing quite right, you know; but I MUST tellyou. When we lost you--you know that set of tools the Union droppedin our yard--well, he sent them to London for yours."

"That is just like him," said Henry, bitterly.

"And I'll tell you a good joke; they were in the place when youcalled, only not unpacked till just before I came away. Returned,sir! with a severe reprimand. 'Wonder you should send us suchthings as these for carving-tools by Little. If the error is notrepaired shall consider ourselves at liberty to communicate directwith that workman.' A regular sugar-plum."

"Oh, thank you, my kind friend, for telling me. The world isn't allbitterness, after all: a poor fellow gets a sweet drop of friendshipnow and then."

"Yes, and a good drop of port now and then, though I say it thatshouldn't. Fill up. Well, my boy, Cheetham is in a fine way. Ileft him walking about the office like a hyena. So now is yourtime. You can't fight the Trades; but, if Cheetham will go in withyou, and I know he will, for he is sorer than you are, you can trickthe Trades yet."

"Ah! tell me how, that is all."

"Oh, I can't tell you exactly. I'll try, though. I say, what aglorious thing the Ruby is: it inspires us, and fires us, et cetera,and gives us ideas beyond our sphere. Did you ever see one of thesenew portable forges?"

"No; never heard of them."

"No wonder; they are just out. Well, buy one of them--they wereinvented here--and carry it to some dismal cavern, where the foot ofman never treads: make Cheetham grind your blades in another county:and who will ever know? Go to him, and don't say a word, but justask him for your month's salary. Then he will open the door ofbusiness himself--safe. I'll drink his health. He's not a badsort, Cheetham: only he'd sell his soul for money. I hate suchrubbish. Here's 'Perdition to the lot; and no heel-taps.'"

These words of fire set Henry pondering deeply; and, as he pondered,Bayne stuck to the port, and so effectually, that, at last, after aninterval of silence, he came out in a new character. He disturbedhis companion's reverie by informing him, in a loud, aggressivetone, that it had long been his secret wish to encounter theHillsborough Trades, in the persons of their secretaries, under thefollowing conditions: a twenty-four feet ring, an experiencedreferee, and a kingdom looking on. As to the order of thepugilistic events, he was not unreasonably fastidious; muststipulate to begin with old Smitem; but, after that, they mightencounter their fate in any order they chose, one down t'other comeon. He let him know that this ardent desire for single combats, inan interminable series, arose from their treatment of his friend--"the best friend--the best heart--oh!--the best company--oh! oh!--the best--oh! oh! oh!" Whereupon he wept, the bellicose Bayne.And, after weeping the usual quantity, he twaddled, and, aftertwaddling, he became as pacific as ever, for he went to sleep in hischair.

And, while he snoozed, the words he had uttered set his friend'sbrain boiling and bubbling.

When the time came at which Bayne ought to return to the works,Henry called the landlady, and said, "Mr. Bayne is not very well. Iam going to make his excuses. I wouldn't disturb him till five, ifI was you, and then I'd give him a strong cup of tea."

Henry then went direct to the office, and found Mr. Cheetham there.

"Well?" said Mr. Cheetham, rather surlily.

"I am come to ask for my month, sir."

"So I guessed. Do you really mean to exact that?"

"Why not, sir?"

"Haven't you heard how they ground me down?"

"Yes, sir. But why did you give in? I was true to you, but youfailed me. I'd have shut up the works for three months, rather thanbe made a slave of, and go from my word."

"Well, sir, I forgive you: but as to my month's wages--now all I sayis--PUT YOURSELF IN MY PLACE!"

"Well?"

"You are me. You are brought from London, under an agreement, amonth's notice on either side. You work, and give satisfaction.You are threatened, but you don't run from your employer. You areblown up, and nearly killed. You lose a fortnight, but you don'tcharge for it; 'twasn't your employer's fault. You come back tohim, and face the music again. You work with the sword hanging overyou. But your employer gives in, and sacks you in a minute.Oughtn't you to have your month? Come now, man to man, oughtn'tyou?"

"I ought, and that's the truth. I didn't look at it that way. Isaw my own side. There--no more about it--I'll draw the check--witha good heart."

He drew his check-book to him, with a face as if vultures weretearing his vitals.

When Henry found him Amboynable, and saw his piteous look, he felt alittle softened toward him, and he said, very impressively, "Waitone moment, sir, I've got an idea. I'm not the sort that likes tobe beat. Are YOU?" The men looked steadily at each other.

Cheetham lowered his voice. "I've had hell inside me ever since. Ithought I was a man, but they made a mouse of me. If you know anyway to beat them, I'll go in with you."

"Well, sir, there is a key to every lock."

"That is well said, and I believe it; but one can't always find thekey."

"I almost think I have, sir."

"See nobody is listening. Where is Bayne? He is due."

"Oh, he is not very well, sir; and I was to ask you for an hour'sabsence."

"Let him have the whole afternoon. I'll not have a soul in this butus two. Now come close, and tell me."

They sat opposite each other, and put their heads together over thetable, and the following dialogue passed almost in a whisper. Tosee them, you would have thought they were conspiring against thelaw, instead of combining to hide a lawful act from the violaters ofthe law.

"I can forge the blades a dozen miles from Hillsborough."

"Not you; you will be told of. That won't do."

"I shall not be told of; for nobody will know but you. I shall onlyforge at night; and the building is out of the world, and wedged in,out of sight, between two bleak hills. Sir, it is a desertedchurch."

"What, forge blades in a church?"

"A deserted church; why not?"

"Little, you are A 1. Go on."

"I can get the blades ground by a friend at Birmingham; and mymother and I can put them together at home. The complete articleswill come to you in parcels of a certain colored paper, invoiced incipher outside, so that they need not be opened; you can trust theinvoice, and dispatch them to your London agent."

"All right."

"The steel you must supply me at the current price, and charge itagainst me."

"Certainly. But your price per gross? For this work can't be doneby time."

"Of course not." And Henry named a price per gross at whichCheetham lifted up his hands. "Why, you'll take nine pounds a weekat that!"

"Ay, and more," said Henry, coolly. "But I sha'n't make it. Why,this scheme entails no end of expenses. A house, and stables withback entrance. A swift horse, to gallop to the forge at sunset, andback by noon. A cart to take the things to the railway and back,and to the parcel delivery for you. And, besides that, I must riskmy neck, riding over broken ground at night: and working night andday shortens life. You can't reduce these things to Labor andCapital. It's Life, Labor, and Capital."

"Hallo! There's a new cry. I tell ye what; you know too much forme. You read the Beehive. I take you at your price."

Then he had a misgiving. "That old Smitem's as crafty as a fox. Ifhe finds you stay here, with no visible employment, he will soon bedown on us."

"Ay; but in the day-time I shall appear as a carver of wood, andalso an inspector of factories for Dr. Amboyne. Who will suspect meof a night trade, as well as two day trades?"

"And now, sir, there is one difficulty you must help me in, if youplease. It is to set up the forge unobserved."

"What, am I to find the forge?"

"There's a question, sir! Of course you are. One of these newportable forges."

Cheetham reflected for some little time. He then said it was aticklish thing, and he saw but one way. "The forge must come here,after closing hours, and you and I must fetch it away in the dead ofnight, and take it down to the old church, and set it up."

"Well, but, sir, we shall want assistance."

"Nay, nay. I've got the last suit of moleskin I ever worked in laidaway. I'll air 'em, and put 'em on again; and, when I've got em ononce more, I shall feel a man again. I'll have neither fool nor spyin it: the thing is too serious. I might bring some country fellow,that can't read or write; but no, these portables are small things,and I'm one of the strongest men in Hillsborough. Best keep it toourselves. When is it to be?"

"Say next Wednesday, two hours after midnight."

"Then that is settled. And now I'll square the old account agreed."He drew his check-book toward him again.

But Henry slopped him. "Fair play's a jewel," said he smiling."The moment you sacked me--"

"Say the Trades, not me."

"Dr. Amboyne hired me, at six guineas a week, to inspect the works.So you owe me nothing; but to be true to me."

This trait, though it was one of simple probity, astonished andgratified Mr. Cheetham. He looked on the young man with markedrespect. "You are hard; but you are very square. I'll be true assteel to you, and we'll outwit our tyrants together, till I get achance to put my foot on them. Yes, I'll be open with you; thereare plenty of orders from London and the Continent, and one for sixsets from swells in Hillsborough."

"Might I see that order?"

"Why not? There, run your eye over it. I want to go into thepacking-room for a minute."

He then tossed Henry the order, as if it was nothing more than anorder.

But it was a great deal more than that to Henry. It was GraceCarden's handwriting, the first specimen he had ever seen.

He took the paper in his hand, and a slight perfume came from itthat went to his heart. He devoured the delicately formed letters,and they went to his heart too: he thrilled all over. And the wordswere as like her as the perfume. She gave the order, and theaddresses of her friends, with a pretty little attempt at thebusinesslike; but, this done, she burst out, "and we all entreat youto be good to poor Mr. Little, and protect him against the wicked,cruel, abominable Unions."

These sweet words made his heart beat violently, and brought thetears of tenderness into his eyes. He kissed the words again andagain. He put them into his bosom, and took them out again, andgloated over them till they danced before his manly eyes. Then hislove took another turn: he started up, and marched and strutted,like a young stag, about the room, with one hand pressing the paperto his bosom. Why had he said Wednesday? It could all have beengot ready on Tuesday. No matter, he would make up for that lostday. He was on the road, once more, the road to fortune, and toher.

Cheetham came in, and found him walking excitedly, with the paper inhis hand, and of course took the vulgar view of his emotion.

"Ay, lad," said he, "and they are all swells, I promise you.There's Miss Laura Craske. That's the mayor's daughter. Lady BettyTyrone. She's a visitor. Miss Castleton! Her father is the countymember."

"And who is this Mr. Coventry?" asked Henry.

"Oh, he is a landed gentleman, but spends his tin in Hillsborough;and you can't blame him. Mr. Coventry? Why, that is Miss Carden'sintended."

"Her intended!" gasped Henry.

"I mean her beau. The gentleman she is going to marry, they say."

Henry Little turned cold, and a tremor ran through him; but he didnot speak a word; and, with Spartan fortitude, suppressed alloutward sign of emotion. He laid the paper down patiently, and wentslowly away.

Loyal to his friend even in this bitter moment, he called at Bayne'splace and left word with the landlady that Mr. Bayne was not wantedat the works any more that day.

But he could not bear to talk to Bayne about his plans. They hadlost their relish. He walked listlessly away, and thought it allover.

For the first time he saw his infatuation clearly. Was ever follylike his? If she had been a girl in humble life, would he not haveasked whether she had a sweetheart? Yet he must go and give hisheart to a lady without inquiry. There, where wisdom and prudencewere most needed, he had speculated like an idiot. He saw it, andsaid to himself, "I have acted like a boy playing at pitch-farthing,not like a man who knew the value of his heart."

And so he passed a miserable time, bemoaning the treasure that wasnow quite inaccessible instead of nearly, and the treasure of hisown heart he had thrown away.

He awoke with a sense of misery and deep depression, and could noteat; and that was a novelty in his young and healthy life. He dranka cup of tea, however, and then went out, to avoid his mother'stender looks of anxious inquiry. He meant to tell her all one day;but to-day he was not strong enough. He must wait till he wascured; for cured he must be, cured he would be.

He now tried to give his mind to the task Amboyne had set him; butit was too hard: he gave it up, with rage and despair.

Then he made a desperate resolve, which will not surprise those whoknow the human heart. He would harden himself. He would see moreof Miss Carden than ever; only it should be in quite a new light.He would look at her, and keep saying to himself all the time, "Youare another man's wife."

With this determination, he called at "Woodbine Villa."

Miss Carden was not at home.

"Are you sure she is not at home?"

"Not at home," replied the man stiffly.

"But you needn't to keep him at the door," said a mellow femalevoice.

"No, miss," said the man, with a sudden change of manner, for he wasa desperate and forlorn admirer of the last speaker. "Come in,sir." And he ushered him in to Jael Dence. She was in her bonnet,and just going out. They shook hands, and she told him Miss Cardenwas out walking.

"Walking with her beau?" said Henry, affecting a jaunty air, butsick within.

"That's more than I can say," replied Jael.

"You know nothing about it, of course," said Henry, roughly.

Jael looked surprised at the uncalled-for tone, and turned a mildglance of inquiry and reproach upon him.

The young man was ashamed of himself, and at that moment, too, heremembered he had already been rather ungrateful to her. So, tomake amends, he said, "Didn't I promise to take you to Cairnhope?"

"Ay," said Jael; and she beamed and blushed in a moment.

"Well, I must go there, Sunday at the latest. So I will come foryou, if you like. Will you be ready at ten o'clock?"

"Yes."

"I'll bring a gig, and take you like a lady."

"Anyway you please. I'd as lieve walk as ride."

"I prefer riding. Ten o'clock, the day after to-morrow. Good-by."

And he hurried away, provoked, not pleased, at the manifest pleasurehe had given. The woman he loved--inaccessible! The woman he onlyliked--he could spend the whole day with her. So the reasonableyouth was cross with her for that, and for being so pleased, when hewas wretched.

That feeling soon wore off, however, and, being a man of business,he wrote a line to Martha Dence, and told her he should visit her onSunday. He added, with a gleam of good-humor, "and look out, for Ishall bring my lass," intending to give them all an agreeablesurprise; for Jael, he knew, was an immense favorite.

Next day he went on the hills with Billy, and, instead of thinkingfor the benefit of his enemies, as agreed with Amboyne, he sethimself to hate every body, especially Miss Carden's lover, and theHillsborough Unions. The grinders and file-cutters might die likesheep. What did he care? As much as they cared for him. Dr.Amboyne was too good for this world, and should keep his money tohimself. He (Henry Little) would earn none of it, would take noneof it. What invention he had should all go to outwit the Trades,and turn that old ruffian's church into his own smithy. This doublemaster-stroke, by which he was to defeat one enemy, and secretlyaffront another, did make him chuckle one or twice, not with joy,but with bitterness.

He awoke in a similar mood next morning: but there was eight o'clockservice near, and the silver-toned bell awakened better thoughts.He dressed hurriedly, and went to church.

He came back sadder, but rather less hot, less bitter: he had hisbreakfast, improved his toilet, went to the livery stable, and droveto "Woodbine Villa."

Mr. and Miss Carden had just finished breakfast, when he drove up tothe door.

"Who is this?" said Mr. Carden.

"What, have you forgotten Mr. Little?"

"Indeed! Why, how he is dressed. I took him for a gentleman."

"You were not very far wrong, papa. He is a gentleman at heart."

Jael came in equipped for the ride. She was neatly dressed, and hada plain shepherd's-plaid shawl, that suited her noble bust. Shelooked a picture of health and happiness.

"If you please, miss, he is come to take me to Cairnhope."

"Oh! is it for that? And I declare you expected him, too."

"Yes," said Jael, and blushed.

"You never told me," said Grace, with a light touch of asperity.

"I didn't feel very sure he would keep his word."

"Then you don't know him as well as I do."

"I haven't the chance. He speaks a deal more to you than he do tome."

"Well, Jael, you needn't snub me, because you are going with Mr.Little."

As a bone, put between two friendly dogs, causes a growl, so when ahandsome young man enters on the scene, I have seen young women losea little of that unmitigated sweetness which marked them a momentbefore.

With Grace, however, to snap and to repent generally followed in abreath. "I hope you will have a happy day, dear, as happy as youdeserve." She then went to kiss her, but gave her cheek, instead ofher lips. "There," said she, in rather a flurried way, "don't keepMr. Little waiting."

Just as they drove off, Grace came to the window, after a slightirresolution, and kissed her hand to them enchantingly; at which asudden flood of rapture rushed through Little's heart, and flushedhis cheek, and fired his dark eye; Grace caught its flash full inhers, and instinctively retired a step. They were off.

"How bright and happy they look," said she to her father. And nowonder.

She sat down, and, somehow, she felt singularly dull and lonely.

Then she dressed for church, languidly. Then she went to church.By-and-by she came back from church.

Then she sat down, in her bonnet, and felt alone in the world, andsad; and at last she found herself quietly crying, as young ladieswill sometimes, without any visible cause.

Then she asked herself what on earth she was crying about, andherself told her she was a little hysterical fool, and wanted a goodbeating.

Then she plucked up spirit, and dried her eyes. Then she took toyawning, and said Sunday was a dull day, and life itself rather awearisome thing.

Then a servant came to inquire if she was at home.

"What, on Sunday? Of course not. Who is it?"

"Mr. Coventry, miss."

"I am at home."

CHAPTER X.

People that met Jael Dence and Henry Little driving to Cairnhopewere struck with their faces; his so dark, hers so fair, and both sohandsome: but the woman's lit up with lively delight, the man'sclouded and sorrowful, and his brow knit with care. This very dayhe must take the lock off Cairnhope old church, in spite of hisUncle Raby. He had got the requisite tools with him hidden in thegig; but, even should he succeed, it was but the first step of adifficult and, perhaps, dangerous enterprise; and he was entering onit all with a heart no longer buoyed by hopeful love. But for hispledge to Mr. Cheetham he could hardly have persisted in thestruggle.

As for Jael Dence, she had no great reason to be happy either: theman she loved loved another. Still he was kind to HER, and theybelonged to the same class; she had a chance, and gleams of hope.And, after all, the future was uncertain, but the present certain:she had him to herself for the day. She was close to him--so close,that she could feel him--and he was driving her out, and to thosewho loved her: she basked in the present delight, and looked as ifshe was being taken to heaven by an angel, instead of driving toCairnhope by a gloomy young man, whom the passers-by envied, andwondered at his good luck in having such a companion. She talked tohim, and got the short answers of an absent man. But she continuedto make her little remarks occasionally, and, ere they reachedCairnhope, he found himself somehow soothed by her sex, her beauty,and her mellow, kindly voice.

As they drove up to the farm-house, he told her to hide her face amoment, for they didn't know who it was.

Martha ran out. "Y'are welcome, y'are welcome; and so is your--Eh! Why it's our Jael. 'Tis no avail to hide thy face, thou jade;I know every bit o' thee." And Patty had her out of the gig in amoment, and there was a cuddling match it did one good to see.

Henry perked up for a moment and offered a suggestion. "Some ofthat ought to come my way, for bringing her here."

"Oh, you'll get enough o' that fun before you die," said Patty."Now come you in; the carter's boy will take the horse."

They went in and greeted the old farmer; and soon the bell began toring for church, and Nathan Dence told Martha to put on her bonnet.

"La, father!" said she, piteously.

"She prefers to stay at home and chat with Jael," said Henry. Thefact is, he wanted to be rid of them both.

Old Dence shook his head. He was one of those simple, grand, oldrustic Christians, who have somehow picked out the marrow ofreligion, and left the devil the bone, yclept theology. "What?"said he, "my lasses! can't ye spare God a slice out of his own day?"

"Nay, it is not that, father."

The old man continued his remonstrance. "To be sure our Jael is acordial. But she'll dine and sup with us. Take my word for 't, alllawful pleasures are sweeter on the Lord's day after a bit o'church."

"And so they are, father; but dear heart! to think of youforgetting. Will nobody tell him? They're sworn to give me a redface, Jael and all."